Changes
by slyprentice
Summary: Link Larkin had everything he thought he ever wanted: a beautiful girlfriend, a chance at stardom, endless amounts of talent and good looks everything. Or, that's what he thought until he met Tracy Turnblad.
1. Chapter 1

Changes  
by **Prentice**

**Rating:** Mature  
**Fandom:** Hairspray (1988/2007 versions)  
**Pairings:** Link/Amber, Link/Tracy, Penny/Seaweed  
**Disclaimer**: None of the characters or situations belong to me. I'm just happy to play with them.

**Summary:** Link Larkin had everything he thought he ever wanted: a beautiful girlfriend, a chance at stardom, endless amounts of talent and good looks; everything. Or, that's what he thought until he met Tracy Turnblad.

**Notes:** This story picks up roughly at the beginning of the 2007 movie and continues from there. The entire story is from Link Larkin's point of view so please keep that in mind as you read. Also, please let me know what you think so far:)

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1. Today's The Day Baltimore 

Link Larkin stared out the window, a crooked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he adjusted his stripped tie in the glass's reflection. It had been a gift from his girlfriend, Amber Von Tussle, on their anniversary a few months ago. He still remembered the look in her eyes, the smile that bloomed on her features, as he opened it. It was perfect the gift, she had said, holding the silken tie to his throat, smoothing it down his shirt front, just as her mother, Velma Von Tussle, had said it would be. He needed a new look, a new style, to grab the attention of Baltimore; something hip so the talent agents out there would notice.

And maybe she was right, he reflected, adjusting his tie once more until the knot pressed gently against the center of his throat. Maybe he did need a little more flare to his already dazzling good looks. After all, he'd been singing and dancing his heart out on _The Corny Collins Show_ for over a month now; finally having the chance to headline a few songs, lead a few dances and really show teenage Baltimore what Link Larkin was made of.

He had the rhythm. He had the beat. He had the talent. He even had the looks. Now if someone, some of the _right _someone's preferably, would just _notice_ it.

Staring hard at his reflection, Link posed, turning this way and that, looking at all angles. The blue suit was a good choice, a solid one. It complimented him in every way; from the color, which would show up dark but not _too _dark on the black and white television screen, to the cut, which flattered his body and didn't restrict his movements when he danced. It was perfect, just like the tie.

Winking at his reflection, the brunette spun on his heels, the smooth movement turning into a aborted dance move as he marched to the small set of desks across the room and picked up the canister of Ultra Clutch hairspray. Pressing the top between his fingers, he popped it off, catching it easily in his other hand as he moved the canister in wide arcs over his head, spraying thoroughly. He couldn't afford for his hair to go limp - it needed to be stiff - or have a stray wisp of hair escape and ruin the effect.

He needed to look good for today's show. Not that he didn't always, of course, but still, there was always a chance of a talent scout watching. He couldn't take the chance.

The teenager hummed under his breath as he sprayed, the acrid smell of the hairspray barely registering, as he leaned down, staring hard at the mirror that was balanced precariously atop the desks. Licking a fingertip, he quickly smoothed his eyebrows, wondering briefly if the hairspray would settle and keep them in place as well. He didn't need to look like he didn't take care of himself.

Feet tapped a steady rhythm on the floor, Link unconsciously practiced the dance moves he would be making later when Corny introduced their new dance: the Stricken Chicken. It wasn't that hard a dance. Just a bit of feet shuffling, really.

Passing the hairspray on another turn, a glint of gold caught his eye. It was the ring on his right hand, shinning under the bright studio lights. That was yet another reason why he wanted - no, needed - to look particularly good today. He was going to give Amber his ring.

It had taken him weeks to decide.

He knew she had wanted it almost from the start - who wouldn't want to wear his promise ring? - but still he had hesitated. Not for any one reason he could decide but something had always held him back. A nagging voice, perhaps. The one that always cropped up in the back of his mind when Amber did something particularly embarrassing, like shove one of the other girl's aside so she could have more camera time, or when Velma Von Tussle looked at him, her sharp blue eyes cold as she watched him with her daughter.

_But now_, he thought, giving his hair one last arched sprits before placing the canister of Ultra Clutch down and snapping on the lid. _Now, I'll give it to her. If it wasn't for Amber, I wouldn't have had this break. I'd still be dancing with one of the other girls, regulated to the side shots of the camera, trying to catch as much of the little bit of screen time I could get._

Not to say that he wouldn't have made it on his own merits; he was a talented performer, after all, and he was quite attractive. All the girls told him so. Nevertheless, it didn't hurt to be dating a beautiful girl whose mother also happened to make most of the decisions about the show. It just got him there faster was all.

The same was true with Amber. She was a decent dancer, quintessentially beautiful with her blond hair and blue eyes, but that wouldn't be enough to get her signed by a talent scout, no matter how hard Mrs. Von Tussle pushed. She lacked the passion, the drive, to make dancing her life.

Link didn't.

Dancing was, in so many ways, his life. He never felt so alive as he did when he danced. He was going to go somewhere and be somebody with dancing, with or without Amber, but even so, to have her by his side, her cool presence reminding him to stay on the ball, they would both get somewhere; and so, he was giving her his ring, his promise.

"Today's the day, Baltimore," Link murmured, fingers tugging on his suit jacket before straightening his cuffs. He was going to give Amber his ring, nagging voice or no, and he was going to put a little something extra into the show. Maybe someone some where in Baltimore would be out there watching him, noticing him, thinking he was special.


	2. Chapter 2

﻿ 

Changes  
by **Prentice**

**Rating:** Mature  
**Fandom:** Hairspray (1988/2007 versions)  
**Pairings:** Link/Amber, Link/Tracy, Penny/Seaweed  
**Disclaimer**: None of the characters or situations belong to me. I'm just happy to play with them.  
**Summary:** Link Larkin had everything he thought he ever wanted: a beautiful girlfriend, a chance at stardom, endless amounts of talent and good looks; everything. Or, that's what he thought until he met Tracy Turnblad.

**Story Notes1:** I realized (too late) that this part should have been tacked onto the first section (Today's the Day) but since I've already posted that part, there's not much I can do without scrambling the readers so for all purposes, this is a very short second section.

**Story Note2**: I'm going to begin peppering this story with slang/terminology used during the sixties. I've tried my best to use only early sixties terminology but as you'll find when you do research, many many people don't distinguish the year in which certain slang was being used so -- I did my best.

**Author's Note**: Please forgive my long over-due update. Quite literally, a few hours after I posted the first chapter, my laptop stopped working. That being said, the next chapter will be posted _a lot_ sooner.

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Link stared down at the ring in his palm, the dimmed lights of the studio glinting on the simple golden band, and felt a burning flush of embarrassment pass through him. She hadn't even taken the ring. She could have, after the show, when Mrs. Von Tussle was busy arguing with one of the cameramen again. She could have slinked up to him, smiled that bright well practice smile of hers, and asked him if he really meant it about the ring. He'd have smiled, taken her hand in his own, fingertips brushing gently against her wrist, and pressed it into her hands. No words would have been needed on his part; he'd have just let her have her moment.

It should have been a gas.

But it wasn't.

It really, really wasn't.

Blowing out a slow breath, Link closed his fingers around his ring, curling them into a loose fist around it. It was a cold weight in his hands, quickly warming to his body temperature. The soft ridges of the design etched into it's crown rubbed against his skin, the small garnets scrapping lightly. He dropped to his arm to his side, fist brushing his jacket pocket, and ignored the flash of...irritation? Resentment? Anxiety?

He wasn't sure what it was, exactly, but it was better to ignore it. Things with Amber were always...different...and he couldn't allow himself to be seen being another other than a cheerful Corny Collin's dancer. That would be pretty uncool; especially in light of the fact that almost everyone had seen him give Amber his ring and anyone whom hadn't seen, she'd probably told by now.

Another exhalation and Link slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, the warm metal band in his hand sliding gently into it's folds. It felt like a anvil falling from his fingertips . Clearing his throat, the teenager gave a furtive look around the nearly empty studio, the sound of his co-stars coming in a humming buzz from the side door on the left, before he lifted his other hand to his front lapels and gently smoothed them down.

Eventually, he was sure, Amber would remember the ring and come and get it from him. Maybe not today or tomorrow but sometime soon, after someone finally got around to _asking_ her to _see_ it, instead of just oh-ing and ah-ing and, in some cases, squealing at the news. He was sure of it.

Amber would remember.

Eventually.

Maybe.

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_Sixties Slang 101:_

_It should have been a **gas** - It should have been **a lot of fun**. _


End file.
